


The Troubles I've Seen

by Error401



Series: In and Out [1]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bruises, Daryl is a white knight, Drama, Everyone could use a hug, Gen, Glenn is a damsel, M/M, Mild Language, Violence, no zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Error401/pseuds/Error401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Excerpt:<br/>“Who are you?” Glenn asked nervously, wrapping an arm around his middle to try and support his ribs. With his sleeveless shirt and three layers of dirt, Glenn was sure he wasn’t no doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Troubles I've Seen

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time. Be gentle.

He’d only been a patient in a hospital once before, and that was when he was six and gotten his tonsils out because his parents were tired of him getting sick all the time. Unfortunately, he still got sick with his weak immune system, but he grew out of it as he got older, doing his best to get stronger so he wouldn’t have to burden his already-overworked family.

He knew he was in a hospital because he recognized the smell. It wasn’t something that you’d ever forget once you’d experienced it. That weird combination of sterile and stale, clean and caustic. And it was cold. He absently noted the goose bumps he could feel rising on bits of exposed flesh. And then he took in the beeping, the annoying rhythm that meant his heart was still thumping along at a respectable pace in his chest cavity.

His head was so fuzzy that all he could do was blink up at the ceiling and breathe in harsh little gasps, because it was then that he noticed the pain. With each suck in and out of air, his ribs ached like they’d been steamrolled by a car or kicked repeatedly. He knew it must be bad, because he had this idea that they generally gave you lots of meds to stop the pain, and if he was feeling it even over that, then either the nurses forgot to dose him or his body was seriously messed up.

“Ugh…” he groaned, his brain failing to form words as only sounds fled from between his clenching teeth.

“Ah, hell,” someone said.

Glenn turned his head slowly, his cheek brushing a thick white pillow, and concentrated on the direction of the sound, his vision finally focusing in on a man sitting next to his bed. At least, he thought there was a man somewhere under all the dirt. 

“I’m gonna get somebody,” the man said, his voice rough and angry. “Stay.”

Glenn would have laughed if he’d had the capacity. As it was, he looked down, wiggling the hand with the IV in it, and then his toes. It was a relief to know that his legs still worked. A few fingers on his left hand were splinted and wrapped in bandages, but he could see the purple bruising peeking out from around the stark white edges. 

“Ah,” Glenn said. Now he remembered. 

A couple thugs had jumped him on a delivery, originally for the pizza but ultimately for the cash they thought he was carrying, which added up to twenty-five dollars and thirty-seven cents. They didn’t seem to understand the fact that most people paid by credit card and that he only ever got cash in tips. They thought he was hiding it somewhere. Glenn wished he had the money to be able to hide it places. 

A large woman in scrubs pushed back the curtain surrounding his bed and he had to squint up at her, as she was backlit by fluorescents. “Can you tell me your name, sweety?” she asked, speaking as if to a child.

“Glenn,” Glenn said, humoring her. 

“What day is it? Can you tell me that?”

“Well, if I got jumped last night, then…Sunday?”

She nodded and smiled at him. “Just makin’ sure, it seems like you hit your head pretty hard last night. Do you know what happened?”

“I was attacked on a pizza run,” he answered. “But I guess I musta’ passed out or something. How did I get here? Did someone call an ambulance for me? Oh crap, I can’t afford to pay for an ambulance!” Now Glenn was freaking out a little. He didn't have money for a hospital! He didn't even have money for food.

“Well, actually, you were carried, honey,” the nurse(?) said, amusement weighing heavily on her voice. “Set all the nurses giggling like preteens.”

“C-carried? What? What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that a smelly gentleman rampaged into the hospital with you on his back, screamin’ and threatenin’ like nobody’s business.”

“What the…” Glenn mumbled, head starting to ache. “Well why didn’t he just call an ambulance?”

“Poor dear was so distracted, I doubt he even remembered the number for 911,” she shook her head, smiling. 

“Oh,” Glenn sighed. He guessed he owed the guy a thank you or three. “Umm, could you please tell me when I can get out of here?”

“Sweetheart, that’s not a good idea,” she frowned. “Three of your ribs are broken, and two of your fingers. You shouldn't be up and about—“

“I-I know,” Glen said, “but I really can’t afford to stay here. I’ll be lucky if my insurance covered the one night I did.”

Her eyes squinted in sympathy. “Well, I suppose since you aren’t in critical condition, there’s no reason why you shouldn't be able to go home. Is there someone I can call for you while the doctor looks in and gives the word or not?”

“Ugh…” he replied, “…no…There’s no one.”

“You’re gonna’ be in a lot of pain, Glenn,” she said gently. “It’s not going to be easy getting around, doing things on your own. Isn’t there anyone who can come and help you?”

“No,” Glenn said more firmly, his teeth clenching automatically as his ribs offered him a sign of their protest. He smiled up at her, “I’ll be okay, honest. Can the doctor come look at me now?”

She sighed and gave him a once-over. “Okay, I’ll go see if he’s free. Sit tight and relax, press the call button if you start hurtin’ too bad.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly.  
She ducked back out of his little curtained area and drew them closed behind her. Glenn could do nothing but sigh and push his head back against his pillow. Honestly, it hurt. A lot. But he knew it would only hurt worse if he had a massive bill to pay off on top of it. He’d just have to cowboy up and deal with it. Invest in lots and lots of aspirin, as there was no way he’d be able to afford whatever prescription they’d want to put him on. 

The doctor didn’t say much different than the nurse, just recommended that he stay put for at least another day and emphasized the amount of pain he’d be in if he started walking around, but Glenn just brushed off their concerns with a smile. “I’ll be okay,” he said, and it was more to convince himself than either of them. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be okay.”

The doctor frowned but left the discharge papers next to his bed. “Your clothes are in there, honey,” the nurse said, pointing to the small table and its single drawer. Glenn nodded and smiled. He grimaced when she pulled out the IV and stuck a bandage on the top of his hand, and he could see little droplets staining the top of it as they continued to leak slowly out. 

“When you’re done gettin’ dressed, or if you need any help, just press the call button, and I’ll be back with a wheelchair to get ya out of here.”

It took every ounce of effort he possessed to sit up straight without bursting into very unmanly tears. Everything hurt, and breathing only made it hurt more. His face felt swollen and unpleasant, and he really didn’t want to see what he looked like in a mirror. Ever so slowly, he twisted his body, wincing with every pull of flesh, and got his legs to dangle from the side of the bed. He tried one foot on the ground. 

“Ah!” he grunted, not able to hold that one in. It felt like even his legs had been kicked for hours on end. 

The curtain was shoved back, and he looked up, surprised. 

A guy was standing there, looking at him like he’d grown three heads. “You okay?” the guy asked, looking away once he realized Glenn was only wearing a thin hospital gown. 

“Who are you?” Glenn asked nervously, wrapping an arm around his middle to try and support his ribs. With his sleeveless shirt and three layers of dirt, Glenn was sure he wasn’t no doctor. 

“Daryl,” the guy grunted. “I, ugh, found you just layin’ there last night. Didn’t feel right to leave ‘fore knowin’ you was okay.”

Glenn almost smiled at the obvious discomfort the man was in just talking to him, but the pain kept his face frozen in a grimace. “Thanks, Daryl. I really owe you one, man. I’d probably still be layin’ there if—“ He broke off as his ribs spiked, and he hunched over. 

Daryl was there before he could wave him off, helping Glenn ease back down onto the bed before he fell over. “Hell, kid,” Daryl said. “You’re not lookin’ so pretty.”

“Umm,” Glenn said. “I really, really hate to bother you, but…” he trailed off, looking down at his body helplessly. “Would you help me get dressed?”

Daryl frowned at him, mouth tightening into a thin line. “No, I gotta go.” And so he did, leaving Glenn on his bed without so much as a goodbye, throwing back the curtain with excessive force. 

“Okay…” Glenn muttered. “Thanks again,” he said to the air.

**Author's Note:**

> Game Over or Continue?


End file.
